Post Premiere Party
by Scullysfan
Summary: A borrowed convertible, take-out margaritas, and moonlight. How could it get any better?


Title: Post-Premiere Party  
Author: Scullysfan   
Classification: SR   
Rating: PG-13   
Spoilers: Hollywood, A.D.   
  
Distribution: Do not archive at Gossamer. I'll take care of  
ATXC myself. Anyone else, *please do not archive without asking  
first.* Thanks. : )   
  
Disclaimer: The characters of Mulder and Scully are the property  
of Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. They are not mine and no  
copyright infringement is intended.   
Summary: A borrowed convertible, take-out margaritas, and  
moonlight. How could it get any better?  
  
  
Feedback: Any and all comments longed for at:  
Scullysfan@aol.com  
  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
  
In the end, none of Hollywood's plastic glitz and glam held much  
appeal. Maxing out the Bureau's credit card might have given  
them some measure of satisfaction, Mulder thought, as he tugged  
his tie loose and stuffed it in his pocket, but that kind of shit  
wasn't their style. Not that he would mind seeing Scully in  
that little black dress again, her arms bare and touchable, her  
hair held back by a headband thingamabob he was pretty sure he'd  
never seen her wear before. Thank God her hair was growing out  
enough to need one.   
  
He ran his hand back and forth over his own head until the hair  
stood up in spikes, and looking to his left, he grinned.   
  
She must have sensed him watching because she glanced in his  
direction once, twice... a wide smile flooding her face. He knew  
he had a goofy look on his. Flying up the Pacific Coast Highway  
with Scully at the wheel of Federman's BMW convertible, so new it  
begged to be spanked, made him feel goofy. She didn't mention how  
she finagled the use of Federman's car, by guilt or by gun, but  
Mulder bet it was spectacular.  
  
Or maybe the man was a sucker for a beautiful face, something her  
captive passenger understood all too well, at least where Scully  
was concerned.   
  
Whatever her method, she apparently intended to take full  
advantage of the situation. If Mulder didn't trust her with his  
life, he might have been tempted to grip the door handle for all  
it was worth or practice a little passenger-side braking. The  
State of California had done a commendable job lighting that  
highway, but there was still something spine-tingling about  
weaving in and out of traffic with a dark plunge into the ocean  
on one side of them and some really unforgiving cliffs on the  
other.   
  
This was her night to call the shots, but maybe if he asked  
nicely, she wouldn't mind letting him in on her plans.  
  
"Scully, where are we going?"  
  
"Mmmm... I don't know yet. Exactly..."  
  
She didn't know yet. "Are you waiting for a sign?"  
  
"Yes, actually."  
  
"Let me guess... a choir of angels, the brightest star in the  
East, or maybe something simple like neon lights spelling out  
'You are here' in the clouds."  
  
"Keep it up, Mulder, and I'm not going to share."  
  
"What makes you think I'll want whatever it is you're gonna  
offer?"  
  
She turned to look at him again, the smile gone, her eyes dark as  
the rolling clouds in the night sky. Her gaze traveled the  
length of him and back again before settling on the road.  
"When haven't you?"  
  
For some time Mulder had known that a sultry woman lived  
underneath Scully's conservative suits, and he took great  
pleasure in her coming out to play with him. Seldom were their  
games public, and never before had she blown the starting whistle  
while whizzing along in the dark California night.   
  
His hands flexed as they rested on his thighs. He glanced over  
his shoulder. This little number's back seat was pretty small,  
but he felt sure they could figure out something.  
  
"Pull over, Scully."  
  
She chuckled and reached over, squeezing his hand. "Don't worry,  
you'll get yours. Besides, here's my sign."   
  
Releasing his hand, she slowed the car and yanked the steering  
wheel to the left, cutting across the highway and pulling into a  
gravel parking lot. They screeched to a stop in front of a  
wooden building probably dismantled several times by earthquakes,  
and just as many times thrown back together. Raucous mariachi  
music and spicy aromas strong enough to bring tears to Mulder's  
eyes flowed out the open front door. Scully's sign from the  
heavens towered over the shack masquerading as a bar and featured  
a plump, mustached worm hanging over the rim of a tequila bottle.  
The worm lifted a stuffed burrito in salute. Faded black  
lettering across the burrito read "Panchita's Margaritas."  
  
"This is what you were looking for?" Somehow this was not what  
he expected.  
  
She looked at the bar as if seeing an old friend again and  
nodded. "I wasn't sure it would still be here, but this is  
it."   
  
"Why?"  
  
"One taste of Panchita's nachos, and you'll understand."  
Unbuckling her seatbelt, she leaned over and pecked his cheek  
with a kiss. "I'll be right--"   
  
The crash of glass meeting an ungiving wall or floor cut off her  
words, and a tangle of kids stumbled their way outside. From the  
looks of them, Panchita's margaritas were a hundred proof. The  
kids'whooping shouts continued to drift across the tiny parking  
lot as they piled into a dingy Grand Am following a scuffle over   
the keys. The winner was the lone female in possession of all  
her  
motor skills. Pulling onto the highway, they disappeared into  
the night.  
  
A clamor of voices and laughter burst anew from inside as Scully  
began to step from the car. Mulder snagged the hem of her dress.  
"Wait, Scully! Maybe I should go in with you... you know, get  
your back."  
  
"Just guard the car, Mulder."  
  
And then she was gone. Leaving him to wonder if Scully's  
apparently intimate knowledge of Panchita and her wares was  
something that should concern him.  
  
He'd barely had time to work up a good worry when she was back,  
handing him a grease-stained white sack and two tall, styrofoam  
cups. Sliding behind the wheel, she coaxed the engine to life  
with a flick of her wrist and began backing them out of the  
parking lot and onto the highway, narrowly avoiding having the  
end of Federman's car sliced off by a limo pulling in for a late  
night snack.   
  
Only in Malibu.  
  
They traveled a few more miles before the sporadic buildings on  
the ocean side of the drive ended. The tide bubbled in  
almost to the edge of the grass separating the beach from one of  
the many parking areas strewn up and down the PCH. An exchanged  
glance confirmed their dinner reservation, and Scully parked  
between a pair of lights, one on either side of the nearly empty  
lot, their glow dimmed by years of bugs on kamikaze missions into  
the hot glass.  
  
Scully's plans for the evening hadn't included enough forethought  
to bring a blanket, so eating on the sand was out. Instead, they  
boosted themselves up onto the still warm hood. As his partner  
unpacked their food, Mulder surveyed the area. The illumination   
from the streetlights barely reached the water's edge as the  
waves   
crashed over each other. Dark and brooding, the ocean looked   
ominous at night, capable of snatching people without a trace,   
only toreturn them with the tides in weeks, months. Just in  
front   
of the car, unmown monkey grass danced with willowy waves in the   
wind. That same breeze brought the salty ocean air to mix with  
the  
scent of toasted corn, sharp cheese, and peppers.   
  
Faint laughter carried over the roar of the waves, and Mulder  
could just make out the shadowy outlines of a few people flirting  
with the edge of the water. They were at least a hundred yards  
down the beach, and he hoped they stayed there. Sharing a  
picnic   
on the beach with Scully was a novelty for Mulder, and he'd be   
damned if anyone ruined it.  
  
The pointy toe of Scully's left shoe poked him in the calf.  
"Mulder? Where are you?"  
  
"Sorry..." He nodded in the direction he'd been looking. "I was  
just wondering if those are the same kids we saw back at  
Panchita's."  
  
Barely giving the group a cursory glance, she waved her hand over  
her shoulder as she offered her opinion. "Probably. That car  
over there is the same make and model as the one we saw. There's  
a Pepperdine student parking tag in the rear window and I noticed  
a couple of them wearing the university sweatshirts."  
  
Mulder chuckled as he watched her place a steaming container of  
nachos and all the trimmings on the hood between them. The two  
over-sized cups sat between her knees. At his laugh and  
subsequent silence she raised her face to his, letting her  
eyebrows ask the question.  
  
"Very good. Anybody ever mention you'd make a great FBI agent?"  
  
Narrowing her eyes in mock anger, she shoved his drink at him.  
"Shut up and drink your margarita."  
  
"I've never had one in a styrofoam cup, complete with straw, that  
didn't come with free beads and directions to the woman most  
likely to bare her breasts."  
  
"Yes, well... Panchita's is known for the same sort of  
atmosphere."  
  
He leaned back in new appraisal. "Do tell, Ms. Scully. How  
exactly did you acquire your knowledge of Malibu's finest  
watering hole?"  
  
She crossed her legs at the ankles and straightened her skirt  
over her thighs. Peering up at him, she shrugged. "A group of  
us came down here two or three times during my one and only year  
at Berkley. Panchita's was cheap, and they weren't concerned  
about little details like under-age drinkers."  
  
"So this... group... of yours, you'd bring your food here to the  
beach?"  
  
"Sometimes, yes."   
  
"How many people made up this group, Scully?"  
  
Amusement threatened to bubble over as he watched her duck her  
head to study the nachos. A visual inspection apparently didn't  
suffice because in her next move, she stuck her index finger in  
the gooey mess of melted cheese, sour cream and finely ground  
chorizo, swirling it through the mixture before popping it in her  
mouth. She sucked the hot delight from her finger, her eyes  
rolling back in gastronomical ecstacy and a flush blooming on her  
face. He'd seen that image before, and it usually had nothing to  
do with food.   
  
She was trying to distract him. This must be good.  
  
He reached over and tugged her finger from her mouth. Slowly her  
eyes opened to meet his and she grinned. Busted. And she knew  
it.  
  
"Scully? How many passed for a group back then?"  
  
"I don't know... a few."   
  
Hoping another taste would loosen her tongue further -- and oh,  
that thought alone could do him in -- he formed a spoon with his  
first two fingers and scooped up a blob of sour cream. Her mouth  
opened to his silent entreaty, her tongue cradling his fingers as  
she swallowed his offering. The motions drew her lips tighter  
around him, and he could feel his fingers begin to tingle.   
  
Not to mention other parts of him.  
  
She cleaned him off with meticulous strokes of her tongue, ever  
thorough as she sucked the last traces of cream from under his  
fingernails. He remembered that this was supposed to be an  
exercise in obtaining an answer, though at the moment he couldn't  
recall the question. Oh, yes... how many.  
  
"So... uh... was a few three or four or--"   
  
Releasing his fingers, she sighed. "There were two of us, okay?  
Me and P.J. Thomas. He was the requisite freshman relationship -  
-played the romantic to the hilt, talked about houses and kids  
even though he still took his clothes home for his 'mommy' to  
wash. Took me a few months, but I finally came came to realize   
that his blinding devotion hid his real desire... which was to  
get  
into my pants."   
  
Her feet spoke of her anxiety in revealing these things, as they  
waved back and forth, the edges of the soles clunking together.  
Mulder covered her knee with his hand, and the nervous habit  
stopped. She continued ruefully. "I suppose deep down I knew  
that all along, but the sexual aspect of it was part of the  
assertion of my adulthood, one of several rebellions in my life.   
Eventually I'd had enough and realized I'd like a little self-  
respect to go along with sex, and for it to be with someone who  
loved me. I broke it off." She finished her admission and sat  
up  
a little straighter, adding, "Here as a matter of fact."  
  
"Scully, you didn't bring me out here to break up with me, did  
you?"  
  
A slow shake of her head preceded a wistful smile.   
  
"No... whatever the outcome of my relationship with P.J., I loved  
this spot. I wanted to see it with the right person for a  
change."  
  
He couldn't help it -- the goofy look was back, complete with a  
blush, if he wasn't mistaken. God, what an odd one he was. Five  
minutes ago she was giving his fingers the blowjob of all time,  
and he was seriously considering fucking her right there on the  
hood in front of God and a bunch of drunken Pepperdine students.   
And yet, something as simple as hearing Scully refer to him as  
"the right person" left him blushing like a teenager.   
  
She was talking about him, wasn't she?  
  
"You are talking about me, aren't you?"  
  
Picking up a nacho laden with artery-blockers, she held it until  
he obliged and opened his mouth.   
  
"Don't push your luck, buddy."  
  
He pouted, so she soothed him with a kiss and another chip. For  
the next few minutes they were silent, save for the moans of  
appreciation brought on by their makeshift dinner. This was no  
Taco Bell ninety-nine cent plate of nachos and cheese. No,  
Panchita must have ground the corn fresh. Maybe even shucked it  
herself. The meat and its spices had Mulder convinced it should  
be investigated as a cure for clogged sinuses. Scully nixed that  
idea. While tasty, the cheese, sour cream, and salsa conspired  
to perform a more important function than satisfy hunger.   
  
It dripped.   
  
And bless Panchita's heart, she forgot to include napkins with  
their order.   
  
A blob of cheesy sour cream offended Scully's sensibilities by  
spilling from Mulder's lips onto the side of his chin. Halting  
his hand on its way to wipe his face, she leaned closer. Her  
pointed stare flicked from his eyes to her destination and back  
again. Licking her lips, she placed an open-mouthed kiss on his  
skin. He felt her hot little tongue dart out and lap up the  
mess, and yet she continued to taste him, trailing wet kisses  
along his jaw on one side and then the other.   
  
Tired of letting her have all the control, he moved to take a  
little for himself. A gentle shove sent the remainder of their  
dinner sliding off the hood. Her indignant protest died out when  
he took her head in his hands and turned it to suit his mouth.  
Having satiated one hunger, he feasted on her lips in the hopes  
of easing another.   
  
Minutes passed this way, with neither of them coming up to  
breathe. Huffs of air passed through their noses like two  
racehorses barreling around the track.   
  
It was safe to say Mulder was aroused. Merely kissing Scully was  
almost guaranteed to leave him in some stage of that condition.  
Dizziness and a ringing in his ears was even known to occur.  
Tonight sparks and bright flashes of light registered  
between half-closed eyelids.   
  
Wow, fireworks.   
  
He groaned and tugged Scully further into his arms, settling back  
to watch the show they were producing. Gradually he realized  
there were muffled pops and bangs with most of the lights, and he  
pulled away.   
  
"Mul... Mulder?"  
  
They'd worked up quite a sweat in a short time, even with the  
brisk breeze blowing, and he had to rub his eyes to clear the fog  
of perspiration and arousal. Blinking, he peered into the  
darkness as Scully twisted around to follow his line of sight.   
  
She began to turn toward him, a question poised on her lips, when  
faint, gunfire-rapid pops exploded -- a quick succession of  
lights against the backdrop of night. Next, two sizzles, one  
after the other, heralded bursts of light as sparklers ignited.   
  
It seemed the kids they saw earlier had moved closer and had  
progressed from firewater to fireworks. He and Scully watched as  
the two holding the sparklers danced circles around their friends  
who dodged falling light and egged them on with their shouts. No  
sooner had one stick died out, but another burst into flame in  
its place.   
  
"Mixing alcohol and pyrotechnics probably isn't the safest  
choice, Mulder."  
  
He glanced at her with a grin. "Why are you telling me that? I'm  
hardly buzzed from the margarita, and any sparks around here you  
helped generate."  
  
His comment earned him an elbow in his abdomen, but he continued  
undeterred.   
  
"Besides, I remember setting off firecrackers at the beach --  
those little ones that were more bang and smoke than anything."  
  
Scully nodded. She would remember this, too.   
  
"Samantha and I would save up our money for those weeks we spent  
at the beach. Well, she mostly bought ice cream with hers, but I  
let her come with me when I set mine off. Playing with fire is  
so much more fun with an audience, you know."   
  
She chuckled and twisted to rest in his arms, letting him make  
his memories hers, too.  
  
"Mom never seemed worried about turning us loose with matches and  
fireworks. Maybe she trusted that I knew what I was doing. Or  
maybe she knew even then that she couldn't protect us from life."  
He tightened his arms around her waist when she shifted  
restlessly. "Samantha would mash her hair into her ears and hold  
her hands over them. I called her a baby. She'd just stand  
there... her hands clamped to the sides of her head, elbows  
jutting out, and her tongue blowing a raspberry at me."  
  
"Sounds like me and Bill."  
  
"Let me guess... he was the big baby?"  
  
"How'd you know?"  
  
Laughing, he rubbed his chin on the top of her satiny headband.  
"Did you all have sparklers too, Scully?"  
  
"They were Missy's favorites."   
  
"Yeah... Samantha's, too. No matter how many she saw, she looked  
at each one like it was magic."  
  
Silence had reigned between them but a moment when Scully  
straightened and stared intently at the students, whose showed no  
signs of running out of ammunition. She turned and looked at  
Mulder, her expression blank.  
  
"Fireworks of any kind are illegal in the State of California."   
  
He gave her an odd look. Before he could find his voice, she  
hopped off the hood and fished her badge out of her purse under  
the seat. Without a word, she took off across the grass. He  
heard her curse as she stepped onto the sand and her heels sank  
all the way to her ankles. Seeing her predicament as an  
opportunity, he called to her as she slipped out of her shoes,  
tossing them toward the car.  
  
"Aww, c'mon... you're not going to spoil their fun, are you?  
Scully?"  
  
Resolutely ignoring him, she took long strides across the sand,  
slipping and sliding as the grains shifted under her weight.  
There was a full moon tonight, and while they'd sat there, the  
clouds had blown away, leaving the moon to shine only on Scully.  
Or so it appeared. Illuminating and projecting her so that she  
wasn't just a short woman in stocking feet, her hair disobeying  
the band holding it back. She reached the group, and if their  
reactions were any indication, she appeared bigger than life to  
those drunken fools. Just as she had for years to this sober  
one. They wouldn't refuse her a thing. No one could.   
  
But then he remembered that a great many someones had.   
  
Shaking his head to drive away somber thoughts, he watched with  
amusement as Scully brandished her badge and the fizzle went  
right out of the kids' fun. She held out her hands, and they  
unloaded their loot, walking away as she headed back to him.  
  
She tossed her badge over the windshield and when he slid down,  
resting his feet on the bumper, she stood between his knees.   
  
"Look, Mulder -- Morning Glories!"  
  
He accepted the sparkler she held out, keeping one for herself.  
They were longer than regular sparklers, with a pink stick and  
tissue paper covering the ignitable portion. The color of the  
paper gradually faded from pink to blue at the very tip, and  
wrapped around and around -- like a candy cane -- was a gold  
ribbon holding it all together.   
  
"You're an evil woman, Dana Scully... taking toys away from  
children."   
  
Flicking the lighter she also apparently confiscated, she  
replied, "Life's hard."   
  
Her unaffected mask slipped and she grinned up at him as she  
stepped away.   
  
"Ready for some magic?"  
  
The flame from the lighter set afire first his sparkler, and then  
hers. Brighter than the ones he remembered, they also burned  
bigger, sending off showers of colored sparkles rather than a  
fountain of white light. He enjoyed the sight for a moment, but  
soon found another far more captivating. It was Scully, of  
course -- her head cocked to one side as she leaned her face  
close to the stick, her eyes squinted against the bright light  
shooting from it. Obviously trying to puzzle out the mechanics  
behind the magic, she made him laugh. Rearranging her  
inquisitive face into her annoyed one, she stamped one foot.   
  
Not nearly as effective without her clunky heels.   
  
He snickered and moved to stand beside her, gently taking her  
Morning Glory, which like his had nearly died out. A quick pitch  
sent them clattering into the metal trash can a few feet away.   
  
As Mulder crouched down to pick up the mess made of their dinner,  
Scully stretched her upper body across the hood of the car,  
reaching for their margarita cups. Her sheath dress rose slowly  
up her thighs, and his eyes were drawn to a tantalizing patch of  
skin, its temptation not lessened by the delicate nylon weave  
covering it.   
  
It's true that most men probably wouldn't find the back of a  
woman's knee to be especially arousing, but then, Mulder wasn't  
most men. And he didn't expect to ever get enough of Scully's  
reaction when he kissed her behind the knees.   
  
Moving swiftly before the moment was lost, he bent his head and  
pressed an open-mouth kiss to the tender back of her left knee,  
flicking the tip of his tongue against the delicate fabric  
covering her flesh. A peal of giggles sounded from above him,  
and he had to draw back and grab her leg at the same time when  
reflex sent her kicking, nearly putting a kibosh to any further  
romantic plans for the night.  
  
As he stood, she spun around, still giggling through a poor  
attempt at a glare. His arms encircled her waist and he drew her  
close, silencing her laughter with soft kisses and gentle  
caresses. She sighed as his lips moved to nuzzle the soft down  
of her cheek.   
  
"This was so nice. Just the two of us, away from everything.  
Does it have to end?"  
  
"No, not yet," he whispered. After picking up her shoes by the  
little black straps, he handed them to her and held out his hand.  
  
"Walk with me, Scully."  
  
And so they walked -- guided by the light from the parking lamps  
as far as it would reach, and beyond that by the moon. The  
breeze picked up and grew cooler. Since she'd left her dress  
coat in the back of the car, Mulder shed his tuxedo jacket and  
engulfed her in it; her fingers barely peeking out from the  
sleeves. Strolling the beach, tethered to this woman by her  
thumb and two fingers encircling his index finger, and by a  
lifetime of shared history crammed into seven short years, he  
reconsidered Hollywood's portrayal of their relationship.   
  
He'd been disgusted by how Federman presented the thinly veiled  
version of them... horrified that what they had together would be  
so trivialized and put on display for millions to see. But on  
second thought, he wasn't all that sorry Joe and Joan Q. Public  
wouldn't see the real them. No one would ever capture the  
complexity of their relationship, and he was discovering that he  
rather liked having her all to himself. Knowing that in private,  
they ceased to be two agents and became just a man and a woman in  
love, a marvel that was for them and them alone to enjoy.  
  
She smiled up at him when he tucked her hand more firmly into his  
and swerved toward the car.  
  
"Let's go to the hotel, Scully. You promised earlier that I'd  
get mine."   
  
"I was talking about the nachos."  
  
"That's what you think..."  
  
  
END  
  
  
Author's thanks: It's a good thing my beta readers are all  
spoiler hussies, since I wrote this a month before the episode  
actually aired. Thanks and all the cookies go to Laney, Lisa,  
Jill, and Meg. Oodles of thanks to Kris for help with cars,  
food, fireworks, and Malibu -- she's better than a search  
engine. g  
  
Special thanks goes to Sue Schramm for letting me borrow from  
her fabulous "Dividends," the idea of Scully being ticklish  
behind her knees and Mulder wanting to kiss her there. If you  
haven't read it, *do*! She's written lots of great stories, but  
this one remains my favorite. It, along with the sequel,  
"Seven Year Itch," can be found at Chronicle X.  
  
  
Feedback would be much appreciated at: Scullysfan@aol.com  
  
My fanfic can be found at:  
http://members.aol.com/scullysfan/myfic.html 


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